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Subject: {ASSM} [wedding] new "Morning Has Broken 01" {Uther} (MF) [1/2] <*>
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<1st attachment, "Morning Has Broken 01.txt" begin>

Subject: new "Morning Has Broken 01" {Uther} (MF) [1/2] <*>


IF YOU ARE UNDER THE AGE OF 18, or otherwise forbidden by law to read
electronically transmitted erotic material, please go do something else. 

This material is Copyright, 2003, Uther Pendragon. All rights reserved. I
specifically grant the right of downloading and keeping ONE electronic
copy for your personal reading so long as this notice is included.
Reposting requires previous permission. 

All persons here depicted, except public figures depicted as public
figures in the background, are figments of my imagination and any
resemblance to persons living or dead is strictly coincidental. 

# # # # # #

Morning has Broken 
Uther Pendragon 
anon584c@nyx.net


Part 1:

Jen Saunders looked out over the congregation just before 11:00. The pews
looked almost *crowded*. She should get married more often. Her parents
and grandmother had come out from Chicago. So had Rachel and her fiance,
Peter -- a guy Jen had barely met. David's mother and his sister and her
family had come from the east. 

All the rest were locals, many of them nominal members of the church. It
was just that almost nobody was missing. Most of the missing were probably
hospitalized. Even Cathy Mitchell was there. Her husband Gary hadn't
attended service since a woman was assigned as pastor. This was Cathy's
second time -- she had come on Easter. Gary wasn't hospitalized, though
not in the best of health. Jen got that sort of news.

The wedding was scheduled for later in the day, but Independence didn't
hold with coming to church in the afternoon and claiming that you had been
too busy in the morning.

Probably they wouldn't hold with getting divorced on a Friday and marrying
the same guy on the following Sunday either. The only thing she could do
to generate this big a crowd again would be to die and have them hold her
funeral. Gary Mitchell would come for *that*. Then Ruth Dixon started
playing the electric organ, and Jen turned her attention to the service.

She'd put a good deal of care into the sermon. It was the only sermon of
hers that her grandmother or Rachel would ever hear, one of the very few
that her parents would ever hear. Hell! It was one of the few that some of
the parishioners present today would hear. Not that anybody would remember
it.

David might. She looked fondly at her fiance during one of the hymns. He
remembered the oddest things, and he did pay attention to her.

When the service was over, she headed back to her office. Her mom and
Rachel, her bridesmaid, joined the two Independence matrons who were
running the show. Her mom was carrying the bouquet that David had got in
Evanston. The dress fit and, despite the assistance of four people -- Jen
had dressed herself without assistance for decades -- finally looked
perfect. Then she had to stand in it while the clock ticked. 

Deborah Fitzgerald knocked on the door to tell her that the DS was here.
Bless the woman; that was one more worry that could be forgotten. The
other two clergy present couldn't conduct the service; they would be the
bride and the groom. 

The weather being clear when the time came, she walked from the outside
office door to the front door of the church. Ruth Dixon started "Here
Comes the Bride," she took her dad's arm, stifled a giggle -- she'd grown
up singing "big fat and wide" as the second line of that song, and
processed at a stately pace. Independence UMC had rather a short aisle,
but what there was they walked with dignity. Aside from David's solo, and
that was beautiful despite Mrs. Dixon's accompaniment, the service was
straight out of the service book. 

The reception, held in the church hall, was truly crowded. The ushers knew
who needed chairs; they'd asked her and David beforehand about their
families. Aside from those, the chairs weren't even stacked against the
walls. Being in a Methodist church, the reception was dry. She got to meet
David's sister, brother-in-law, and nephew. 

"Unca Dave," the nephew greeted him. Somebody didn't call him 'David.' The
nephew expected to be picked up, and David --despite the occasion and his
tux -- clearly expected the same thing. 

Holding him, he said, "Jen, meet Stephen. Stephen say hello to your new
aunt."

"Hello," said Stephen.

"Hello Stephen," she said. She bent over to kiss his cheek. Stephen didn't
have his uncle's interest in kissing her, which was lucky. He'd already
had some of the cake with chocolate icing. Maybe he'd just rubbed it on
his face.

With Stephen still in his arms, David said, "And this is my sister Deborah
and her husband Keith." 

"Come, Stephen," said Deborah, after Jen had shaken her hand and been
pecked by Keith. David put him down, and he scampered away. 

Stephen was far from the only kid attending. Most of the others were
grandchildren of fairly regular attenders. She didn't register any facts
beyond those when they came through the reception line with their
families. 

She changed in her office again. David changed elsewhere -- the men's
john? They probably would be dressing and undressing in each other's
presence for the next fifty years, but Independence would have been
shocked if they'd done it right then.

David was waiting for her when she came out of the office. The exit from
the main doors was an event, with lots of thrown rice and blinding
flashbulbs. Were those really necessary in the bright light?

The young kids were running around over the wet grass and stomping in the
mud puddles. One of the running boys, not Stephen -- she did remember
David's nephew -- tripped and fell almost at their feet. He began to cry.

David picked him up before the parents could get there. "I am always
falling down," David sang, "but I know what I can do. I can pick myself up
and say to myself 'I'm the greatest too.' It doesn't matter if you're big
or small. You live now if you live at all. I am always falling down, but I
know what I can do."

The boy looked at David with wide eyes, his fall apparently forgotten. And
who could blame him? She was trying not to stare herself. Who was this man
she'd just married?

The child's mother arrived. Liz Albertson's daughter, Jen couldn't think
of her married name right now. David put him down and the kid walked away,
looking back. David's traveling clothes were all muddy, but he didn't seem
worried.

"Unca Dave," said Stephen with the dismissive tone that only noncoms,
headmasters, and preschool children seem to manage.

Joe Englehard drove her and David to O'Hare. When the plane was safely in
the air, she turned her attention to the past. "Where did you get that
song?"

"Wren has a publisher. I can't remember the name at the moment, but the
license was quite reasonable."

"No. The one you sang to the kid. The falling down one."

"The Ecumenical Institute is a lay-training group on the west side of
Chicago. I learned about it when I was still in New York. Strange that a
Chicagoan hasn't heard of it."

She had, vaguely. Still, hearing about it and knowing that song were two
different things. "And they taught you that song? That's lay training?"

"Well, the boy wasn't ordained, was he? Anyway, they have a live-in staff,
they call it an order. An order of married couples. An original idea,
though you could claim that William Booth had it first. Anyway, I
digress." That could be David's motto.

"E I, as it is called, has families. And they make up songs to express
their theology just as Charles Wesley made up songs to express his. Or to
express John's. So, they make up some songs, at least that song, I can't
think of any others right now. They make up some songs to express their
point of view to their children. Notice that the kid stopped crying." 

Stopped crying? The kid had been gaping. She decided not to say that.
"Stephen seemed to disapprove," she said instead.

"Stephen has heard that song before. *He* stops crying, though. He knows
that he'll hear the song again if he doesn't."

"Seems to me that crying after you fall down is what you'd expect from
that age."

"Oh, it is. And the song doesn't say to stop crying. The song merely
suggests a new context. The reason toddlers are built so close to the
ground is so they don't (usually) get hurt too bad when they fall down."
She'd have to think about that one.

"You should take one of their courses," David said after a period of
silence.

"I'm not quite a layman." She didn't have his depth of training, but
still....

"They teach courses for clergy, too. And courses either clergy or laity
can take. I took courses from them while I was at the D School," David's
PhD program after he already had a D. Min. "Look, I don't have any of the
materials with me. Just keep an open mind; that's all I ask." 

She could keep an open mind. You do what your spouse asks, if it were
possible. He'd sung when she asked him to, hadn't he. "I know you don't
think I'm very well educated...."

"Compared to what? You have a second degree; high school is about average
for the country. If I don't think you know enough to quit learning, I
don't think anybody does. I certainly don't."

"You know one hell of a lot," she said. 

"But not enough. The background for New Testament studies is daunting. You
have to know the culture of the people who wrote the books. And most of
them were split between two worlds, mebbe three or four. Saul was a man of
the eastern Mediterranean Hellenist culture, but he was also a Jew. How
did the Septuagint influence him? And there are things about Hellenist
culture we don't really know. Rome had to have had some influence, and
what were the peculiarities of Tarsus? We laugh about Jen's being a
Chicagoan and David's being a New Yorker." David was perfectly willing to
grant that the city had its own culture; he just thought the state
deserved precedence on the name. "But people are much more mobile today
than they were in the first century, and Tarsus had its own laws and
centuries of history. Certainly the Jewish heritage, of which we know a
good deal, influenced Paul a lot. Anyway, I should know all of that. I
should certainly be on top of what is widely known about that stuff. And
I'm not."

"'Widely known' meaning maybe a dozen people know it?" she asked.

"More than that. Thousands probably, maybe hundreds of thousands.
Historians and classicists know a lot more about Hellenist culture than I
do. And scholars of the Old Testament know more about the Jewish heritage
than I do. *Some* of what they know is relevant to what I need to know.
And just reading one book isn't going to help. Unless that book is the
Septuagint."

"You read Greek."

"Not well enough. Which is what I've been saying about the rest of this.
Look, back when the Germans were occupying Paris, they had a regular
censorship of the theater. A new play was submitted to the censor. These
guys who read French, regularly read French plays, were fucking-well
living in France, studied this play written in *contemporary* French. They
passed it as irrelevant to the current scene. It was an adaptation of a
tale from classical Greece. The play was put on, and it inflamed the
audience with the spirit of resistance, just as the author had intended.
Now, if those guys couldn't see the subtext of the play written in the
language they shopped for groceries in, what chance do I have to see the
subtext of a book written in a language which has been dead for more than
a millennium?"

"And what chance do I have after having taken a few courses?"

"After having taken a few courses," David said. "And those were after
sitting for years listening to preachers, who had only taken a few courses
themselves, sermonized on that passage. And you had your formative years
shaped by Sunday-school teachers who never took course one. You know,
sometimes I think I'm a little hard on the feminists who reject Paul."

"Hey! I'm a feminist."

"Assuming you would have chosen this career without being a feminist, and
that's a *big* assumption, a few months of men calling up the church and
asking when the pastor would be in would have made you one."

She chuckled. Things hadn't been quite that bad in Independence. Most
people who called the church were members; and *they* had heard that the
new preacher was a woman within the first twenty four hours. Within the
first twenty-four seconds, probably.

"Anyway," he continued, "I don't think you reject Paul. What happened was
that generations of men told wives to be subject to their husbands as a
strict commandment and that husbands should not be harsh with their wives
as good advice, if that. So, when some women reject that interpretation,
and reject it they should, they reject Paul along with it."

"So, you won't be harsh with me so long as I'm subject to you?" Actually,
she'd heard him on this subject before.

"In the first place, that isn't what Paul said. There ain't no conditions.
I'm supposed to be loving towards you under all circumstances. Now, I'm
human and you'll see my temper fairly often in the rest of our lives. But
that isn't what the scripture says; that's sin dwelling within me. In the
second place, it's not at all clear that you owe the same obedience as a
Greek Christian wife in the first century did. When she got married, she
undertook an obligation to obey. Becoming a Christian didn't mitigate that
obligation. You, on the other hand..." He stopped and stared at her. She
couldn't help grinning. "...Are leading me on."

"Hey! I fell in love with my professor," she said.

"Sorry. I'm a dump truck. Push the right button and I dump the whole
load." 

But she liked his loads. She liked pushing his buttons, for that matter.
"That's fine. I asked, after all. Now, start giving tests, and I'll
complain real fast."

"Seems to me that you did fine when I gave tests."

"Humpf. Then why did I get a B as a final grade?" And worked like hell to
get that. She didn't think a B was doing fine. 

David didn't answer that question. She looked out at the deep blue sky.
Soon, he took her hand in his. It had been a busy time. She drifted off.
When she woke, the pilot was announcing their arrival in Norfolk. She
gripped David's hand tightly. When the plane had landed, she relaxed. 

"Look," David said, "I'd planned for another flight. Do you want me to
find a taxi which will take us the whole distance?"

"I'm fine."

"Seriously...."

"Seriously, I'm fine." They took a much smaller plane to the resort. She
was fine. It was natural to be nervous on airplanes. They collected their
luggage and took a taxi to the inn.

When David had mentioned the Atlantic, she had expected some place on the
coast of New England. He was from New York State and had been to seminary
in Boston. Instead he'd suggested a place in North Carolina. The room
looked comfortable, if a little less elegant than the pictures in the
brochure. The dinner *was* elegant. Afterwards they walked down to the
seashore. It was a calm day, and the waves surprised her. They weren't
rough or threatening, but Lake Michigan was flat as a table when the wind
wasn't blowing.

Back in their room, David used the bathroom first. He came back shaved and
wearing a robe. Wedding night jitters were ridiculous. She'd been to bed
with David before. Still, she took her time. Inserting the diaphragm still
made her feel clumsy. When she came out in her sexy nightgown, David
whistled. It *was* the first time he'd seen her in a nightgown.

He was lying in bed covered by the sheet. When she joined him, she saw
that he was naked. "Naked?" She wondered whether she should take her
nightgown off, too. It was new and felt a bit scratchy. Still, she liked
how she looked in it -- he *had* whistled. 

In response, he raised his left hand. Okay, he was wearing his ring, the
ring she'd put on his finger that afternoon. She didn't count that as
dressed. 

When he kissed her, he started gently with his mouth closed. Soon, though,
his tongue was exploring her mouth while his hands were exploring her
body. For the longest time, he stayed outside the nightgown. Finally, she
sat up to remove it. Even with David's help, that took more time than
she'd have thought. 

He kissed her breasts, moving from one to the other and all over them.
Finally, he kissed and sucked on her right nipple. His hand stroked up the
inside of her thighs towards her cleft. Suddenly he drew back. "I forgot,"
he said. "We have all night. Well, not all night but loads of time. We can
sleep in in the morning." He took her right hand and kissed that. He
continued up her arm to her shoulder.

It must have been minutes later that he got back to her breast. He kissed
all over it before he reached the nipple. He stroked between her thighs,
not touching her cleft. When he finally did, he kissed a line over to her
left breast. She gloried in the sensations, starting to spiral higher. But
she shouldn't now.

This was a special night. Her first climax as a married woman shouldn't be
from his hand. She pushed it away and reached for him. "You," she said.

"Yes." He moved over her and stopped just at her entrance. "Jennifer."
Then her lips were spread, she felt the smooth slide of his entry until
she was filled. He shifted so that his hands were on her breasts. She ran
her hands up and down his back. "Oh, Jen," he said. "Oh, love." He stroked
in and out of her as he held her breasts. She clutched his moving legs
with her thighs and rested her feet on his calves.

She spiraled upwards in time to his strokes. When she spasmed around him,
he said "Oh, Jen," again. Then, just as she was finishing, David thrust
into her harder than before. "Oh, Jen Ni Fer," he said as he throbbed deep
inside her.

For a moment, he was a single rigid shape, his muscles feeling as hard as
his bones under her hand. Then, he collapsed over her and gasped. He felt
like his muscles had disappeared. When he collected himself enough to move
off, he pulled out as well. He left one arm lying across her torso and all
his juices dripping down her rump. When she cuddled back against him, he
hugged her.

When she woke up, though, she was alone. The shower was running in the
bathroom. "As man and woman, we were made," David sang suddenly. It was
the song from the wedding. And it was even better accompanied by the sound
of the shower than it had been to the accompaniment of the ancient
electric organ. She snuggled down to listen. Soon, though, her bladder
drove her from the bed to the bathroom.

"Sorry," said David, and stopped.

"Sing it through," she said.

He started at the beginning again, and sang it through. She sat there
after wiping herself and listened until the end. "Praise the love that
never ends," he finished. She flushed and washed her hands. She was back
in bed when the shower stopped. He came out with a towel wrapped around
his waist. "Sorry," he said, "I felt happy and I've got into the habit of
singing in the shower when I'm happy. I'll have to remember that I'm not
alone anymore."

"And you'll have to remember that I *like* your singing. I asked for your
singing."

"You're sweet," he said and came over to kiss her. The kiss was deep,
exploring her mouth. His hands passed all over her in a most arousing
fashion. 

When he started to stroke her cleft, though, she broke the kiss. "I need
to make my preparations -- and wash." She took a terrycloth robe and the
bag which held all the materials for the diaphragm in with her. She
renewed the diaphragm before showering. When she had put on her face and
come back out, he was waiting in bed for her. She shed her robe before
joining him.

"Mmmm," he said and kissed her. "Good morning. A *much* better morning
than the ones after I had to drive back from seeing you." His hands were
fondling her as he spoke. He kissed her again, tongue meeting tongue.

"You didn't like visiting me?" she asked when he drew his head back. Not
that she didn't know what he meant, but she could tease him.

"I didn't like leaving you. I like sleeping next to you all night. I like
having you in bed with me in the morning." The movement of his hand over
her torso suggested one reason he liked that.

"And I like being in bed with you in the morning, too. And I like hearing
you sing in the shower. Do you think I could talk the trustees into
putting a shower into the Independence parsonage?"

"You can ask," David said. "Maybe you shouldn't tell them the reason." He
stopped talking because his mouth was needed for a more important task. It
was minutes, though, before his kisses got down to her breasts, and more
minutes before his kisses on her breasts reached her left nipple. 

His hand, likewise, distributed its caresses widely. Finally he stroked up
and down her inner thighs. She needed more direct stimulation, and spread
her legs to invite it. He ignored that invitation for the longest time.
"David!" she begged.

In response, he stroked her cleft and switched nipples. Every touch, every
suck, warmed her more. Then he kissed down over her belly. She knew where
he was going, but he still took his own sweet time getting there. When he
threw back the covers and knelt between her legs, she raised her knees in
anticipation. He kissed her thighs, though.

This was arousing, and then it was torture. She grabbed his hair and
pulled him where she needed him. His licks on those lips were wonderfully
soothing after all that teasing. They, too, were arousing. As she spiraled
higher, he finally reached her clitoris. It was wonderful; it was
agonizing tension.

"David!" she said. Then she spasmed, spasmed again clutching him to her
center. She couldn't control her movements at all while she spasmed again
and again.

Then she couldn't move. He climbed over her leg. He pulled the sheet over
her and hugged her lightly. His hand was on her left shoulder. When he
blew across her ear, she shivered violently. 

She put her right hand up to hold his. "Jen," David said, "Jennifer
Blake."

"That's my name." It hadn't been for long, but it was now.

"The Reverend Mrs. Jennifer Blake." He leaned on one elbow to give her a
kiss. His erection rubbed against her thigh when he did. 

When his tongue retreated from her mouth, hers followed it. The kiss was
long and sweet, and his hand caressed her while it was going on. On
leaving her mouth, he kissed all over her face, working down her neck
slowly.

He licked her nipples instead of sucking them. He alternated from one to
the other and then back. When he climbed between her legs, he gave her
another kiss on the mouth. She could feel his erection against her belly
while his tongue was in her mouth. She expected his entrance as soon as he
broke the kiss, but he went back to her breasts, kissing all over both of
them before resuming the licks on her nipples. 

When he started kissing lower, her patience broke. "Now, David," she said
pulling him up her body. He was grinning as soon as his face was visible,
but his hand was busy at her cleft. Then he was right there, pressing
warmly against her lips. "Yes," she said.

"Yes," he replied. He entered slowly, spreading her, filling her. Once all
the way inside, he smiled at her before beginning his motions. She rubbed
her hands down his sides all the way to his rump.

When her tension rose, she used that to pull him harder against her, more
deeply into her. She began her own motions pressing against him as he came
in and withdrawing as he went out. Then she had to move faster than he was
moving. "Oh!" she said.

"Yes, Jen, Yes, love." He sped a bit, but not enough. Then she was
spiraling upward. Something raised her center at the same time she pulled
him against her. She shuddered and climaxed.

David kept driving in and out through that climax and afterwards. Then he
pressed into her and had his own. He came out when he moved to his side. 

She'd had plenty of sleep, didn't need any. She was rather surprised when
she woke up that she'd gone back to sleep. She felt hungry, famished, as a
matter of fact. She also felt sticky. She headed into the bathroom and
used the toilet before the shower. She had to unpack before she could get
dressed. David woke in the midst of her activity. He had his own shower,
but donned his traveling clothes from the night before. No wonder she was
hungry, she'd missed breakfast entirely. They went down for an early
lunch.

Afterwards, they took a walk in the direction away from the sea. David
held her hand for almost the entire walk, kissing her left hand 'goodbye'
and taking her right when they reversed directions. "Swim?" he asked when
they got back in sight of the inn. 

"Has it been an hour? I really need to finish unpacking." Getting the
swimsuit out of the suitcase wouldn't take long, but all this going into
suitcases for her clothes each time was ridiculous.

"That first, then. I don't think we need to hurry. The Atlantic isn't
going to leave if we're late."

In their room, he held her for a kiss before they divided up the closet
and dresser. He suggested that she have more drawers. "I didn't bring all
that much," he said, gesturing to his single suitcase. He did hang a suit
on the right side of the closet along with two pairs of slacks and several
shirts. By the time she'd hung her clothes on the right, the dividing line
between their clothes was way over on his side.

They changed into their suits separately. She used the bathroom. When she
came out in her bikini, he whistled. She turned around to model it for
him, then donned her beach robe for the trip through the inn. He was
wearing a T-shirt and a pair of cutoffs. But no glasses. His face looked a
little different without his glasses.

The beach was full, the water much less so. She'd noticed that behavior
before. People who "went swimming" often did very little swimming on their
excursions. Some lovely tans around them, though, especially for June. Her
suit looked right in style. David's didn't. It was baggy, not a Speedo.
The buoyancy of the water was greater than she was used to, but it was
barely noticeable. The waves, on the other hand, were longer than you got
on Lake Michigan on a swimming day. The water got deeper faster than she
was used to, but that was good. She wanted to swim. 

So, obviously, did David. When he'd seen that she was enjoying herself, he
started off on a long swim parallel to the shore. She decided not to try
to match him, and it was lucky she didn't. She played around for a while
and got her fill of the first day. She returned to the towel they had left
with her wrap and his cutoffs and shirt. She'd got nearly dry and was
starting to itch when he returned, breathing heavily. "Ready to leave?" he
asked.

"Just about. I've developed some itches."

"Salt water. Give me a few minutes in the sun." And he donned the cutoffs
and t-shirt while his suit was still wet. She wrapped her beach robe
around her for the trip back to the inn. In their room, he 'helped' her
take off the swimsuit. It was about as necessary as the four helpers she'd
had at her wedding, but much more fun. He scratched her back before she
took a shower. He took one after her.

After they had dressed, they applied sunblock and went out for another
walk. This time, they found a park bench to sit on. "Enjoy your swim?" he
asked.

"Very much, but I don't think I floated any higher."

"Somehow, swimming in fresh water takes more energy. Some of it is to stay
on the surface. I can't just float."

She looked at him. He wasn't skinny, but there didn't seem to be a pound
of excess fat on him. That might be just enough to make him sink in water.
And, if so, he wouldn't sink in the ocean. "I float in fresh water," she
said.

The discussion wandered from swimming now to swimming when they were young
to other experiences of their youth. She felt she knew him much better
when he finally looked at his watch. "Hungry?"

"Now I think about it." Actually, she was very hungry.

"We don't have to go back to the inn's dining room. Feel like fish?"

"That's what you should have asked this afternoon. But I wouldn't mind
eating some." He groaned. He must have forgiven her, though. He kissed her
after they got up.


Continued in Part 2 
Morning has Broken 
Uther Pendragon 
anon584c@nyx.net
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